


espresso shot (my heart)

by dowarae



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Gen, I dont really know, Kinda, Soft Boys In A Coffee Shop, also college au, but i know there is No Angst, but i tried, coffee shop AU, how honourifics work, i dont really know what this is, im sorry, it's p soft tbh, kinda??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dowarae/pseuds/dowarae
Summary: It doesn't take much for Jaehyung to make a complete fool of himself in front of the incredibly (very) cute barista but does he care? Not if it means spending more time with him he doesn't.(or: a dumb coffee shop au that i wrote because i was in a soft jaepil mood)





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> this was literally called ??? coffee???? until a few moments ago because it took me so long to come up with a name  
> also i'd like to thank my good good friends for editing this bc Wow do i not know grammar and without them I Would Have Died

Jaehyung takes a sip of his coffee and looks around the practically empty café. He idly picks at the fraying edge of the white table runner and momentarily watches the group of three or four what Jaehyung assumes to be high school students studying around a table. He hears one of them laugh and looks back to see the female barista (Jaehyung thinks her name is Jisoo) who took his order speaking to one of the students. The student giggles at something Jisoo says and Jaehyung turns away. He studies the exclusively red and white oil paintings lining the walls. They remind him vaguely of the Canadian flag, which in turn, reminds him that Younghyun hadn’t arrived at their previously discussed time of 10:35 am.

Younghyun has never made him wait before - usually Jaehyung’s the late one. With every soft jingle of the fading gold bell above the door, Jaehyung tenses, expecting to see a familiar smiling face. He takes another sip and pulls out his phone. Opening it to see three unread messages, he sighs. He knows that his habit of keeping his phone on silent causes a lot of communication issues and Younghyun constantly nags him about it, telling him that _“I don’t enjoy having to call you because you don’t answer goddamn texts.”_ Jaehyung unlocks his phone to find the messages from no other than Younghyun.

 _hey, i know we haven’t seen each other in like, forever (or like, three days) but i can’t come today bc sungjin’s visiting his parents and i can’t leave his dog alone bc she pees on everything, i’m really sorry_ _10:34 am_

 _jaeeee why do you keep your phone on silent you fool_ _10:37 am_

 _i really am sorry tho_ _10:42 am_

Half an hour ago. Jaehyung sighs again and closes his phone, not bothering to answer the texts. Placing it on the stained, beige table just below the edge of the runner, he reaches for the off-white mug. He plans to finish off his coffee and leave when a crash sounds from the other side of the shop. He looks over, taking in the sight of one of the baristas hastily attempting to clean up what looks like a solid three mugs worth of coffee off the ground. Jisoo briefly glances over in concern, non-verbally asking if the other barista needed help. He shakes his head gently and the female barista turns her head back to the group of teens. Without really thinking, Jaehyung grabs his phone (habit), stands up and walks over to the barista. Crouching down beside him, he begins to pick up the shards of multi-coloured ceramic.

“Thank you.” The barista whispers as he wipes up the spilled drinks, carefully avoiding the smaller pieces of the mugs.

The smell of coffee and the gentle clinks of the sharp shards reverberates around the café momentarily as Jaehyung thinks of a suitable reply. “It’s no biggie,” he eventually says, immediately cringes, and wishes he could take it back. _No biggie?_ Is that even a real sentence?

The barista, however, seems to find it a lot less cringy than Jaehyung did as his quiet laughter pulled Jaehyung out of his agony. Jaehyung looks over at him, the brief air of nervousness and embarrassment around the man seems to have disappeared. The barista looks over at him and Jaehyung is momentarily taken aback by how _pretty_ he is. Jaehyung has seen plenty of beautiful people in his life, hell, Jaehyung will readily admit that Younghyun’s one of them but something about the barista is completely different from all the other people he has seen over the course of his life.

The man is an almost perfect mixture of sharp and soft. On anyone else, it would’ve looked ridiculous, the way the sharpness of his cheekbones contrasted with the gentle softness of his brown eyes. He’s mildly intimidating to look at in the way an angry puppy might be. Jaehyung blinks in the sunlight, the baristas dark hair catching it, bringing out the flecks of gold amongst the deep brown strands. “I can take those unless you want to keep th- oh! You’re bleeding.”

Jaehyung quickly looks away from the barista and down at his hands still holding the shards of the, as it turns out, two mugs of coffee. Apparently, the barista was correct in saying he was bleeding, a thin trail of dark red was making its way down his right hand, blending with the diluted brown of the coffee. “Oh, shi- shoot.” Jaehyung stares at his hand unsure of what to do, when the barista reaches over and grabs the shards from his hand, replacing it with a napkin from a nearby table. Jaehyung mildly hates that he notices how warm the man’s hands are.

“Here, come with me. I’ll take you to the back and, uh, get you a band-aid or something.” The man stands and Jaehyung does also, wincing as he begins to feel the sharp jabs of pain from the cut. He motions towards Jisoo and she nods before he turns back to Jaehyung.

“What about the-” Jaehyung gestures towards the remnants of the coffee mugs with both hands. Well, more like gestures with his right, while his left holds the napkin on the cut.

The barista waves his hand dismissively towards it, “I’ll deal with it after, now come on, you’re bleeding on the floor.” The barista begins to walk towards the back, Jaehyung a few seconds behind. He tries not to focus on the way the soft yellow shirt the barista’s wearing accentuates his slender form or the way his right hand (that Jaehyung _knows_ is warm) wraps around the handle to a light red door with the sign _employees only._ The barista pushes open the door and looks back momentarily to make sure Jaehyung is still there.

It feels mildly wrong for Jaehyung to enter the backroom, considering he wasn’t an employee, but the barista doesn’t lead him too far back. He leads Jaehyung down a well-lit hall and turns right into an almost kitchen like area. The gold sign beside the opening reads _break room._ Jaehyung stands awkwardly in the doorway, watching the barista open an out-of-date cabinet door and pull out what looks like a first aid kit. He looks over at Jaehyung and gestures absently towards the cream fold-out table, “Take a seat.”

Jaehyung sits on one of the white plastic lawn chairs ( _classy,_ he thinks). Placing his injured hand on the table, he removes the napkin. The cut looks like it’s already stopped bleeding, but that gives no indication of the size of the actual injury as the mixture of blood and coffee covered his hand. The barista wets a paper towel and makes his way over to Jaehyung, gesturing towards his hand. When he nods, the barista gently takes his hand and rubs away the blood and coffee with the paper towel. Jaehyung watches, unsure if he should mention that that was something he could’ve done himself.

He decides against it and instead busies himself with looking around. He decides that it looks like every other break room he’s been in: white, and a single accent colour (in this case, cream); dirty, but not unclean. The broom in the corner and the refrigerator with a, _if it doesn’t have your name on it, Don’t Eat It,_ reminds Jaehyung of every single part-time job he’s had to save up for university. Jaehyung hisses slightly as the paper towel grazes the slice on his palm. “Sorry, sorry,” the barista breathes and proceeds with a lighter hand.

Jaehyung looks back towards the barista, the harsh fluorescent light drastically different from the soft lighting of the main part, reflects off of his name tag. _Kim Wonpil._ “Wonpil,” Jaehyung says quietly, barely above a whisper.

The barista- Wonpil breathes a laugh. “Yes, that’s me.” Jaehyung feels blood rush to his cheeks, having briefly forgotten how close the two were. Wonpil looks up from Jaehyung’s hand and meets his eyes, the lighting giving the brown a less dramatic effect- dulling them - for a split second before looking back down. Even with that, Jaehyung swears his heart skips a beat, and he thinks momentarily that he’s glad Younghyun didn’t show up. “May I ask your name?” the barista asks, moving the paper towel away and opening the first aid kit.

Jaehyung watches him pull out an antiseptic wipe and tweezers before replying, “Jaehyung, Park Jaehyung. Or just Jae, either works. I prefer Jae, but Jaehyung sounds more formal and people seem to like formal and- just call me Jae. Or hyung. Or both. Wait, how old are you?” 

Wonpil looks up at him, holding his gaze for a few moment. amusement glittering in the washed out light of his eyes. Jaehyung feels suddenly embarrassed. “I’m 23.” He looks back down at his hand and grabs the tweezers, pulling small pieces of ceramic out of his hand.

Jaehyung nods, “I’m 25, so I guess you could call me hyung if you want.” Jaehyung finishes lamely. Isn’t that what friends did? The whole honorifics thing? Were they friends? They’d only just met, but they were basically holding hands and if that doesn’t equate to friendship, Jaehyung doesn’t know what does.

“Sure, hyung.” Wonpil replies, concentrating on the task at hand (no pun intended). He winces when Wonpil uses too much pressure. With a muttered apology, he continues removing pieces of vibrant ceramic.

Once Wonpil’s satisfied with the lack of ceramic in Jaehyung’s hand, he opens the antiseptic wipe. Jaehyung makes a sound when it touches his hand, his fingers twitching in response. Wonpil, once again, mutters an apology as he cleans the palm of Jaehyung’s hand. 

The slice isn’t as bad as it looked; only reaching from his index finger to his middle but still, it will impair his writing ability for at least the next week, which Jaehyung finds wildly inconvenient considering he prefers writing out notes over typing.

Wonpil stays quiet as he finishes putting a band-aid on his hand. Jaehyung swears he almost loses his mind when the barista flattens the edges of the band-aid and makes a pleased sound. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown human sound so cute. He thinks his soul straight up leaves his body when Wonpil smiles at him and it’s basically like the sun punching him in the face. “Well Jaehyung hyung, I think you’re set,” he says, seemingly quite proud of himself, for multiple reasons. He picks up the paper towel, the wipe, and the remnants of the band-aid and throws it all in the garbage.

Jaehyung stands up and inspects the band-aid on his hand, waiting for Wonpil to finish cleaning his (own) hands. He’s still not sure he’s 100% recovered from being attacked by Wonpil’s smile. “You know, I’m pretty sure I could’ve done all of that myself.” He looks up a few moments later when he doesn’t hear a reply and finds Wonpil looking at him, completely still in the action of drying his hands.

It is, as it seems, Wonpil’s turn to blush as he clears his throat and says, “I just wanted to make sure you were well taken care of, hyung. Can’t have customers displeased with the service.” Before Jaehyung can reply, he finishes drying his hands and turns towards the door, “Well, I guess that’s it then.” He looks back at Jaehyung and gestures for him to follow.

Jaehyung does as told and as they reenter the main part of the coffee shop, Jaehyung notes the fact that the mess previously made has already been cleaned up, as has Jaehyung’s mostly empty coffee mug. Jaehyung remembers another worker when he first entered and when she took his order, but he can’t seem to locate her anywhere.

Wonpil moves behind the cash register and looks at Jaehyung expectantly. Jaehyung stares at him, unsure what the barista wanted from him. Wonpil sighs. “You’re getting a free drink since you injured yourself in the store, it’s policy,” he explains quickly.

Jaehyung nods awkwardly and steps up to the counter, placing his hands on it as he studies the menu. He raps the fingers of his left hand gently on the surface in consideration. “Uh... I guess I’ll just go for a, uh, medium americano,” he says.

Wonpil doesn’t even move, his hands staying firmly on each side of the silver register screen. “Are you sure? You’re getting this for free.”

Jaehyung blinks, looks at Wonpil then back to the menu. “Can I get it iced?”

Wonpil gives a slightly disbelieving smile and shakes his head, seemingly amused. “Sure, hyung. That’ll be right up.” He grabs a cup and moves over to a machine Jaehyung doesn’t understand and does things Jaehyung doesn’t understand. He tries not to watch the barista as he moves around behind the bar, quietly humming to himself, but Jaehyung finds himself enthralled with the way Wonpil seems to concentrate so hard on his task, yet seem almost like it’s something he’s been doing his entire life.

The gentle ring of the bell snaps Jaehyung out of the staring contest he was having with the back of Wonpil’s head and he turns towards the door. After a moment to process the person backed by the bright, yellow sun, he realizes it isn’t anyone he knows and turns back just as Wonpil places his drink on the pick-up side of the counter and smiles politely at him.

Jaehyung picks up the drink with his right hand, a jolt of pain making him aware of his mistake as he switches it to his left and nods his head in thanks. “Thank you, for everything, I guess,” he finishes and takes a sip of his drink (it’s good).

Wonpil smiles and places his hands on the counter, leaning on them. Jaehyung assumes, from experience, that his feet aren’t touching the floor. “Of course. Also, just a tip, if someone says you’re getting a free drink, I don’t suggest getting one of the cheapest things they have.” He sends Jaehyung a quick wink (Jaehyung feels like launching himself off of the nearest cliff), “Come again soon, hyung.” He leans back and (once again) Jaehyung assumes his feet replant themselves on the ground as he goes over to help the customer who entered a few minutes before.

Jaehyung takes a look around the neutral coloured café and smiles to himself; besides the dull ache in his hand from where he sliced it on pieces of ceramic, and the fact that Younghyun cancelled on him last minute, he thinks his morning went pretty well. He pulls out his phone and looks at the time, _11:45 am._ No notifications.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and makes his way to the door. Pausing at the open door, he turns and looks back at Wonpil, just barely managing to catch his eye and send a quick smile. Wonpil waves at him as he moves about making the customers drink and Jaehyung waves back. He turns away and leaves the café.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally intended to be a multi chapter fic but i forgot about the second chapter i wrote and i just found it and am posting it without editing it!

“I just cleaned these floors, hyung. Don’t you dare step on them in those dirty boots, or I will make you lick it up, mark my words,” the deep voice of his roommate threatens and Jaehyung lowers his foot slowly and places it back on the small square of fabric he’d scribbled  _ welcome _ on in English with a sharpie when he’d first moved in (it was still there much to his chagrin, he severely dislikes it now but Dowoon absolutely loves it for some reason), looking over to where his roommate is sitting on his bed, cautiously. He hasn’t even looked up from the computer on his lap. Jaehyung feels a rush of adrenaline, thanking Jesus and the lord above for sparing him from the younger man’s wrath for another day.

“Dowoon-ah, don’t be ridiculous. You know I would never.” Jaehyung bends down and unties the laces of his boots with one hand, missing the look ( _ glare _ ) the younger sends over the edge of his laptop. Jaehyung knows Dowoon hates it when he walks on their freshly cleaned floors, but from Jaehyung’s perspective there isn’t much floor to clean to begin with. It’s not like they have a giant dorm room anyways, Jaehyung can literally walk from walk from wall to wall in a whole four steps (he’s done it, multiple times). 

He slips off his shoes and sets them beside the door. His socked feet make barely any sound on the maple stained floor as he walks over to his bed, a solid three feet from Dowoon’s and another four from the door. He practically launches himself on pale green comforter, the ancient bed frame protesting. He lays there for a few seconds with his eyes closed, listening to the clicking of Dowoon’s keyboard. Jaehyung momentarily debates removing the thin gold frames from his face, lest he has marks when he removes his face from the pillows. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and without opening his eyes he grabs it out of his pocket, lifting his head only when his phone is basically in front of his face. He yawns, opening the device and reading the message. Jaehyung reads the text multiple times, eyes refusing to focus.

_ don’t u have class??? _

He makes a sound, closes his phone and puts it on the scratched wood desk that separates the two beds, completely empty besides his phone and a few stray pieces of notebook paper with discarded lyrics. “Dowoon, we’re in the same room you don’t have to text me. We’ve talked about this.” Jaehyung says, flopping his head back down into the pile of about two pillows at the top of his bed. He hadn’t even noticed Dowoon had stopped typing.

God, he was tired.

“Well, don’t you? Usually on Thursday’s you got like, calculus or something in the afternoon.” Dowoon says, voice mildly distracted as he resumes typing whatever it was he was typing. Jaehyung re-lifts his head from the pillows, glaring in his roommates direction, blond hair catching on the rims of his glasses. Jaehyung watches Dowoon move the mouse on his black comforter, refusing to move from his position and just as his neck begins to ache Dowoon looks up from his computer, pausing his typing, “What? Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault your cute barista boyfriend or whatever isn’t working today.”

Jaehyung blushes at the comment, fully sitting up on his, leaning against the white wall. He messages his neck gently, “he’s not my boyfriend, I’m not sure we’re even friends. He’s just served me a few times.” He looks at anywhere but Dowoon, the tattered posters on his side of the room, the equally tattered wardrobe in front of Dowoon’s bed housing both of the boy’s clothing (they ended up sharing, both of them too lazy to put in the effort to discern one from another in the early mornings before eight am classes. Jaehyung is fairly certain people from his stats class think he and Dowoon are dating from the looks he still gets from that one time he wore a black sweater with his roommates name on it but he doesn’t mind and he’s fairly sure Dowoon doesn’t mind either).

He thinks what it would be like if Wonpil  _ was  _ his boyfriend. What kind of couple would they be? Would they be the kind of couple you see on american tv shows, the ones who make out in public. Probably not. That would be unacceptable for more than one reason, Jaehyung’s dislike for public displays of affection aside. 

He likes to think that they’d be the kind of couple who’d just act like friends, but with the kissing and dates part. He likes to think that Wonpil would become friends with his friends, as couples do and Jaehyung would be friends with his. He thinks about the future, waking up next to him. Thinks about what his lips would feel like, taste like. 

Jaehyung knows that marriage isn’t even a considerable option so he leaves it alone, tries not to think too hard about it.

Dowoon makes a disbelieving sound and goes back to typing, “Sure, hyung. It’s _ totally _ not like you go out of your way almost daily to go to that café and flirt with what's-his-face.” He reaches over to the desk and picks up a brown mug and takes a sip. The sight of the mug makes the palm of Jaehyung’s right hand sting, even though it’s been over a week since he sliced it. Jaehyung thinks back to the day after the event. 

_ He walks through the glass door and the faded gold bell jingles, calling the attention of the two barista’s working. Jaehyung feels a smile stretch across his face when he meets Wonpil’s eyes. “Hyung! Welcome back! Hope your hand isn’t too bad?” The boy says, voice cheery as Jaehyung approaches the counter.  _

_ Jaehyung holds up his hand, as if using it for proof that he’s still alive and well, “never better.”  _

_ Wonpil giggles, actually full on giggles, “That’s good. So, what will it be today?”  He says, finger poised over the touch-screen. _

_ Jaehyung looks up at the menu, feeling a sense of deja vu at the action. He considers getting something different, maybe a sweet drink this time. “I’ll get a medium americano,” he says instead. _

_ Wonpil nods, Jaehyung pays. _

Jaehyung opens his mouth to protest, but Dowoon interrupts him, “No, don’t. He calls you hyung and you let him. You let him call you hyung like, the first time you met. And in case you’ve forgotten about that one time I went there with you and I had to witness you basically explode when he smiled at you, I’m sure it’s safe to say you guys are  _ at least _ friends.” 

Jaehyung closes his mouth at the end of the mini rant, pouting slightly and Dowoon places his mug back on the desk and runs a hand through his black hair. He smiles quickly at Jaehyung and returns to typing as if nothing ever happened. Jaehyung stays silent for a moment, “He smiles like that at everyone.” 

Dowoon sighs, looking up from his vigorous typing, his dark eyes meeting Jaehyungs. “Sure, hyung.” He says, disbelief practically dripping from the words. “Now go to class, I need to finish this paper and I can’t seem to do that while you’re here sulking about some boy.”

“I miss the times when you were still too scared to talk to me like that, or just, talk in general,” Jaehyung huffs, picks up his phone and checks the time. He has about ten minutes to get to music theory and a fifteen minute walk (he can make it in five if he flat out sprints, but we all know that is not happening). He sighs and lifts himself off of his bed and takes the few steps to the door. He looks back over at Dowoon who’s typing on his computer, his face scrunched with concentration. Jaehyung isn’t sure he heard what he said, from the way he was furiously smashing the backspace button it’s highly likely he didn’t. He takes in the faded jeans and the soft brown hoodie, almost the same shade as the mug and Jaehyung can’t help but think he looks like a little kid. 

(Jaehyung thinks back to when Dowoon first arrived at their campus, how quiet the boy had been, barely speaking a word in the first week of them living together. He rarely saw the boy, just when he came home at night to sleep, and even then it was always fairly late in the evening and Jaehyung being the bitch baby he is, was most likely already asleep, or on his phone. Either way Dowoon didn’t get seen that much.

Jaehyung had invited him out one night when he’d been on his way to Younghyun and Sungjin’s room, who lived across campus. Dowoon had initially declined, saying he had a few classes he needed to catch up on and that he didn’t want to intrude (Jaehyung still hadn’t gotten used to how deep his voice is). 

Jaehyung had told him not to be ridiculous, classes had just begun and there was nothing to catch up on, and besides he’s his roommate, the friendship introduction thing was gonna happen eventually. He remembers Dowoon sighs and proceeded to pick at a loose thread on the cuff of his brilliantly white sweater but after a little more persuading and a _ hurry before we’re late _ , Dowoon had decided to come along. 

Neither of them said much on the walk across campus, Dowoon giving a little information on his family, and Jaehyung replying with some about his. They spoke a little about Jaehyung’s life in America, discussed the differences in culture. Jaehyung learned Dowoon plays drums, giving him the context he needed as to why Dowoon’s as ripped as he is. 

_ “There’s no way he can be so huge, Brian. He’s literally, like, twelve years old at least but he’s a goddamn monster.” Jaehyung exclaims (in English) the day after Dowoon moves in, slamming his bag on the library table.  _

_ Both Younghyun and Sungjin snap their heads in Jaehyung’s direction, vaguely annoyed and confused respectively. “Whose what is huge?” Younghyun asks (in English), uncertainty evident in his tone as if he didn’t really want to know the answer to the question.  _

_ Jaehyung sits down and pulls out his laptop before answering, “my new roommate. He’s fucking jacked.” He looks over at his friends (mostly Younghyun, Sungjin had turned to his phone by that point)  in distress, sighs, and opens his computer. Younghyun gives him a helpless shrug and turns his attention back to book. _

Arriving at the dorms Jaehyung was suddenly nervous for Younghyun and Sungjin to meet his roommate, he didn’t want to have persuaded the boy to join him and end up having to drop his friends or, god forbid, have to switch rooms if they decide they don’t like the boy. Jaehyung felt bad just  _ thinking  _ about what would happen if he convinced Dowoon to come all the way here and then his friends be dicks. He doesn’t think they would, but it’s always a possibility. 

But apparently Jaehyung needn't have worried as Younghyun took to the white clad boy like a mother to a child as soon as he walked through the door, both Sungjin and Jaehyung watching in amusement. Younghyun didn’t stop talking to him the whole time they were there. 

Jaehyung doesn’t think he’s ever seen Younghyun smile so much in a long time.)

He turns away from his roommate and puts on his shoes, opens the door. He sends a quick glance back to his roommate, closes the door and takes his late ass to class.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want More, just let me know but we'll see


End file.
